A Candle for Bin Laden

My blood remembers the ice desert

The Clan of Blue Eyes

We rose from the land of longWinter

500 generations before the One-God

Lived and died and lived again

And from the sands some call Holy

Came the Clan of the Fish

Taking the Northlands

Laying seige to Asgard

Until even the OldFather

Was hidden away

In tales of Old Men and Mountains

Covering the spoken histories

Of the Clans Northlander

With a fine fabric of myth

That with time grew in density

The Clan of Blue Eyes

And the longboat warrior

Lost the truth of their past

Forgot their sacred sites

Forgot the forces that birthed them

Came to call Holy

The lands of the One-God

This the arrow of my blood remembers

The price asked for the ritual candle

Must be the price offered

Haggling is not allowed within the Act

And Ritual commences

Upon crossing the shopkeeper’s thresh-hold

With knowledge and intent

I acknowledge this candle’s purpose

I accept that any harm

I may cause another

May thrice revisit me

So mote it be

The candle that burns for you, Emir

Is tallow obsidian

Solid midnight tipped yellow-blue

Candledance shadows

Fade from view

Only flame and ebon in my sight

My blackest malice for you this night

I agree, Emir

A binding

Even a Binding Malefic

Is not as affective as an assault rifle

Does not appear so surreal

As airliner punching through skyscraper

Does not satisfy

Like a 5, 000 pounder scribbled with

From NYC, nothin’ but love for ya, bitch!

You attempt to conjure Jihad

By treachery and media event

I seek only your malaise

By candle’s light and dark intent

All there is

Is you and me


Not for update


Not even backpage newsworthy

All this does is satisfy something in me

I can live with that

I hope your life is long

Filled with toothaches and tumours

All that you know

Deemed heresay and rumour

I hope your grandest achievement

Leads to your greatest dissappointment

If ever you stumble to the realization

That hate destroys the without

By poisoning that within

I hope when you seek forgiveness

You will find nothing but shame

And loathing

I hope you live to sleep on streets

Filled with those who will not speak to you

Will not look at you

I hope children chase you with sticks

And dogs growl as you pass

I wish that

When the Knowing comes to you

You are denied

By both Flesh and Spirit

And your name

Struck from the Book

I hope your memory

Be struck from the blood of us all

A long life for you, oh holy warrior

So mote it be